I adore Sylvia Plath's writing, The Bell Jar is one of my favourite novels and her collection of short stories Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams is nothing short of inspirational - if you are enjoying Plath's writing then you should look at a writer who influenced Sylvia - Virgina Woolf (Her novel Mrs Dalloway is a personal favourite of mine).
This is just appalling.
Great for parodies of on an emotional cripple and the role she choose for herself. She was a failure as a human being and a great example of what not to be. My words may seem harsh but they are simply my opinion.
I’d like to know why you chose to attack her a person. “The role she choose [sic] for herself”? “A failure as a human being”? No one CHOOSES to be mentally ill. This kind of prejudiced, ignorant dumping on a very sick person is what keeps many people who are truly sick and need help from getting help: they’re afraid of meeting up with someone like you who will do nothing but take a piss on the terrible things they’re experiencing and tell them to “get over it.”
There, you see? THAT’S how to be critical of someone you disagree with. At no point did I attack YOU as a person, merely your opinions. Keep that in mind the next time you want to offer your “opinion” if you want to be taken seriously.
Her identification with a culture, faith and a people she had no concept of is rooted in her deep seated twisted need to see herself as the perpetual victim
This is plenty fair, and I’ve heard many people argue that she had no right to compare herself to the Jews and others who were persecuted by the Nazis. I tend to agree that she took the comparisons too far; this is the reason I can’t read her poems “Lady Lazarus” or “Daddy” and take them seriously. I can certainly understand why that would make someone angry, too. But again, we’re dealing with a person whose judgment has been severely impaired by a grievous sickness.
As sick as that maybe her terrors were all from within........
Well… yeah. That’s what mental illness is. It’s a disease of the mind.
As far Plath goes she was just a sick woman in dire need of extensive psychotherapy. She should have been institutionalized her entire life and prevented from reproducing
You know, this is DEEPLY ironic. Hitler wanted to sterilize all the physically and mentally disabled as well to keep them from reproducing and “weakening” Germany. So, while you claim to be defending the Jews against someone who is unfairly identifying herself with them, you certainly have some issues of your own you ought to sort out before you start throwing stones.
[/end rant]
Take a writer away from his typewriter and all you have left is the sickness which started him typing in the beginning. - Charles Bukowski
I know a girl called Elsa / She's into Alka SeltzerIf you haven't read him yet, TS Eliot is a must read, as are Emily Bronte, John Lennon, Noel Gallagher and WB Yeats.
Slowly walking down the hall / Faster than a cannonball
I'm locked up in chains for the rest of my life / There's no-one else to blame but me / The start of the day's just the end of the night / I'm feelin' like I'm lost at sea
Great guitarist. Great songwriter. But his lyrics aren't exactly for dissecting, are they?
If you enjoy Plath you may enjoy her friend Anne Sexton's poetry as well. One of Sexton's poems is about the death of Sylvia:
Sylvia's Death - A poem by Anne Sexton - American Poems
Metaphors
I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.
I love this little poem by Plath. I think it is fantastic! "O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!" just sings out to me, and I'm not a woman, lol! But the line is emphatic and pivotal within the work. Can anyone explain to me what it means? An unfair advantage if you are female!!!
Last edited by backstory; 10-12-2011 at 08:37 PM.
That's the most ridiculous and misguided thinking I have come across yet!Originally Posted by MTMarshall
Yeats is a superb poet, there's no doubting that. And I agree that the recordings of Plath reciting her own work are a great listen and yes, T. S. Eliot is God but I'm at a loss with the Lennon and Gallagher part, lmao! Especially when they appear on the same line as Bronte. I take it you are referring to 'Wuthering Heights'...? Seriously though, lyrics hardly make for a thrilling reading experience.
I own several of her books of poetry, I believe her anthology Ariel is most famous. I've also ready The Bell Jar (her novel) several times and I am a very big fan. If you are into surrealism and like a dark quality in your poetry than she is a good choice. I feel like my writing style (poetry) is most like her, though that wasn't intended and I didn't discover her until I was around 15 years old. But I really enjoy E.E.Cummings poetry, though it is not necessarily similar, it is controversial in the same way. And obviously Edgar Allen Poe has a very dark quality about him, though it is severely more pronounced in his prose. Also you might want to try Charlotte Perkins Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper if you like short fiction, because Sylvia Plath was most concerned about her own psychological phenomena and abnormal social reactions and That story has a very excellent twist in this manner. I love Plath because psychology (the entity and not the science) influences my writing greatly, and what goes on inside my head, abnormal or otherwise, is the bulk of my writing content. She is the same way. I also applaud her innovation and unique style, also her fearlessness and her determination to attack her own doubts about exploiting her life the way it really was. It's true you have to understand the way she writes, because it is not blunt or obvious, but once you get it the absolute beauty (and I mean beauty as in truth) is just overwhelming. And don't fear being influenced by other poets! Though you should develop your own unique style there is nothing more inspiring than another artist who can really spill them self, who can really lay bear how they perceive life...
I'm sorry, I didn't look to see if anyone replied so forgive me if I'm being stupid. But I'm a pretty big fan of Plath, and I'm pretty sure this poem is about pregnancy. The red fruit is referring to the melon, the ivory to the elephant, the timbers to the ponderous house. I'm not sure, in its context, if there is any specific meaning to those three words or if it is just emphases. But you can tell by the lines A melon strolling on two tendrils andBoarded the train there's no getting off that the subject is pregnancy, most likely with her first child, Frieda. Sorry again if I'm being totally obvious :/
I used to be a pretty big fan of hers. Superb writer -- often her words just sing on the page. I think it was when I began reading her work that I developed an appreciation for the sound of words -- sonics, as it is called. But her poetry is often too surreal and I'm too slow and I just don't understand most of her poems. I will say, though, that Tulips remains one of my favorite poems by her.
Anne Sexton is another, similar, poet. If you like Plath you'll like her.
English words are like prisms. Empty, nothing inside, and still they make rainbows.Denis Johnson, Already Dead
I absolutely adore Plath - my bookshelf is full of her poetry, and I feel highly influenced by her writing. I've never read another poet who can write quite with so much color and beautiful accuracy.
Hughes, however, I can not bring myself to read. His treatment of her has left a bitter taste on my feminist tongue.
Wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.
The feminists bent the story to fit their agenda. Plath had attempted suicide twice before she ever came to England, let alone met Ted Hughes. Her last poems are a long suicide note:
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It more likely that, when young, Hughes was drawn to self-destructive women, the evidence of the inquest into her suicide suggests that she meant to be found before dying, and that bad weather made the nanny late.
Read both The Ted Hughes Letters and Birthday Letters, then make up your own mind, I think you will find that he never stopped loving her.
A man in possession of a wooden spoon must be in want of a pot to stir.
I love that, lol, but bloggsworth is partially right, Plath was messed up from the beginning. Hughes just gave her the ultimate excuse she (in reality) wanted. No denying his infidelity though, that was concrete. The guy was a posing as a person who could feel and relate but as far as I'm concerned he was weak, he couldn't handle Plath and though I don't blame him for that he handled it the wrong way. He knew her condition and how she would handle it, people can claim it's not his responsibility to save her life or whatever but he was her HUSBAND. I am not married but close enough to it (I have a baby and have lived with her father for over three years) to know that it's your effing responsibility to take care of each other and be true to each other. Honestly. But a cheating man is not going to keep me from reading his work, it didn't keep me from Hemingway! But in all seriousness. Plath could write WAAAY better than Hughes, she actually had a heart and that helps. *cackles* lol
"Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you especially have to be hurt like hell before you can write seriously. But when you get the damned hurt, use it-don't cheat with it."
I actually just picked up my first Hemingway novel today. I know - shame, shame. But you do have a point, and I certainly will read Hughes sometime.
Wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.
I hope you enjoy it! Hemingway was a man with feelings, though. You can tell, he just absolutely sucked at physical relationships. He was also depressed and was looking for fulfillment in all the wrong places... don't read Hughes, read something worth your time. lol jk I don't know if you'll enjoy it but if I could describe it in any way it would be 'jumping on the poetry band wagon' to each their own! ^_^
"Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you especially have to be hurt like hell before you can write seriously. But when you get the damned hurt, use it-don't cheat with it."
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